


Stormbound

by gacrux



Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M, on my quest for kyoraku/aizen fics i discovered that there are no kyoraku/aizen fics, so i had to write one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:32:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6187546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gacrux/pseuds/gacrux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A glimpse of their game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stormbound

**Author's Note:**

> Set 110 years ago.

The thing about Aizen is, has always been, that he seems to anticipate _everything_. And even if he doesn't he does an unfortunately perfect job of masking his surprise. It's as though he feels nothing, with the exception of, perhaps, satisfaction. Even Ichimaru Gin is an easier read than Aizen, and one must judge the particular degree of Gin's smile to figure out what kind of mood he's in. Not an easy task. Figuring Aizen's mood? Impossible. It's as though he doesn't have them. It's as though he doesn't know _how_ to have them.

 

Kyoraku rakes his hand through Aizen's hair, pushing it off his forehead. He's without glasses, but his vision seems unimpaired. Kyoraku holds tight to the mane in his grasp, tilting Aizen's head back against the wall, interested only in observing. Aizen watches him back through shuttered eyes, a smug little curve to his lips. On most other occasions, Kyoraku would bite the expression from his face, try and fail to reduce him to something less divine, more human. He doesn't know why he bothers. He never can. Aizen is unshakable, sturdier than the very foundation of Soul Society.

 

They stand in silence. Kyoraku looks and looks, but he can't parse whatever is going on in Aizen's mind. Such a deep, dark, quiet place it must be, to show absolutely nothing of itself on the face of its commander. Like a pond without ripples, no life to be found. Just still, black waters as far as the eye can see. It's disquieting. Kyoraku has always known Aizen is of a different kind, something like Kenpachi, if Kenpachi was pointed inward and not out, but seeing it up close is bizarre. It's strangest, he finds, when he pays attention to it. When he locates what he finds strange and stares it right in the face.

 

“See something you like, captain?” Aizen wonders. The content curve of his mouth never changes. They are so close Kyoraku can feel it when he breathes, when the fabric of their robes brush. Any other person he's had like this, trapped between his body and a hard surface, has always succumbed to nerves and looked away, flushed, laughed nervously. Aizen merely watches him, unfazed.

 

“Not particularly.” He replies. This begets no immediate reaction. Then, Aizen's head tilts the slightest degree to the left, jaw coming up in a manner that would look indignant, challenging on anyone else. On Aizen, it's self-satisfaction. He knows the outcome of this interaction already, the motion says, and it's all exactly as he expected it would be. Aizen initiates nothing, but every move he makes, every degree he tilts his head, every measured look, it's all calculated. Kyoraku can see it now. He never _needs_ to initiate anything because he can persuade whoever he wants to do whatever he wants without so much as a word spoken in askance. And he's so good at it, Kyoraku catches himself pushing him back into the wall, one hand on Aizen's chest, the other still tangled in his hair.

 

“Lying is unbecoming on captains.” Aizen whispers. That, too, is calculated. Carefully modulated. It's all very – impressive, if Kyoraku is honest with himself.

 

“Yes, I suppose you'd know all about being lied to by your captain, wouldn't you, lieutenant?” It's a low blow. Anyone else would twitch, flinch, look away. Aizen remains perfectly still, expression wholly unchanged. He doesn't _care_. He doesn't care that his own captain doesn't trust him, that any shinigami worth their salt knows how deplorable the relationship between the 5 th Division's captain and lieutenant is and has been right from the moment they were introduced, and he certainly doesn't care that Kyoraku is picking at what should by all rights be an open wound.

 

Of course, Aizen isn't anyone else, and he doesn't so much as blink. He doesn't even defend himself. It's like he feels no need to do so.

 

Kyoraku gives, finally. This is ridiculous. Prolonging the inevitable is an exercise in futility, and everything about Aizen is _ever_ so fucking futile. Kyoraku moves in, places his lips on what could be, for all he knows about him, a dead man. Only when he moves first does Aizen shift, and that's only to angle his chin and deepen the kiss. He doesn't slide his hands into Kyoraku's robes, doesn't press close to him, doesn't do any of that. What he does, as usual, is wait. It's a complicated, ridiculous dance. Kyoraku kisses him, Aizen kisses back. Kyoraku puts his hands on him, Aizen reciprocates. Kyoraku fucks him, Aizen takes it. Kyoraku leaves, Aizen watches. Kyoraku sees him later, and suddenly, he's the one watching. Wanting. Aizen never so much as glances at him until Kyoraku finds him by himself, takes him away, and the whole thing starts anew. Kyoraku suspects he comes back again and again because Aizen is too enigmatic to ignore. He wants to know what lurks beneath the surface, wants to know what he's hiding, because he's certainly hiding something behind that perfectly manufactured facade of his.

 

It makes no sense.

 

He digs his fingers hard into Aizen's hip, fishing for a reaction. Also, he wants to leave marks. Aizen's eyes open, but he looks far from surprised. With the first move made, he is free to pull the robes from Kyoraku's torso, run his hands up his arms, gently, like he'd rather be anything but. It's not what he wants. Kyoraku _knows_ it's not what he wants. He sees the hard look in his eyes, recognizes it, resonates with it. But Aizen is only ever gentle.

 

It's his facade, he supposes. Can't let it slip for even a second. Might let everything slip, if he does.

 

So Kyoraku endures it, knowing without a doubt that one day Aizen will slip, and he'll be there it watch him fall.


End file.
